Vanity
by Blood.Stained.Fingers
Summary: There was something he enjoyed about this, making women sit and look in the mirror, make them take off their jewellery and pull back their hair. Before they died or passed out from the pain, they received that exquisite view of their own throat being torn, and could see how beautiful it was when their own blood dribbled down their collarbone. Hal/Sylvie.


**Disclaimer - I do not own Being Human**

**A/N – I have no idea where this came from but I did this in 15 mins, so please excuse mistakes.**

**Vanity**

He has always reserved special punishment for those who had tried to change him, restrain him, stop him from being what he truly was. He hates the stupid people (women, especially the women) who try to _redeem_ him, what is truly to redeem? He wants to ask, I am what I am. I am predator and you are prey. It is as simple as, how long can you cage the beast before it realises it is stronger than its handler?

So after good, restricted, _exhausting_ Hal has left 'other' Hal has to punish those who have kept him at bay. The men go quickly and quietly, in a blood bath that ends up with Hal wearing more than he drinks, but the women….,now they are a special case and Hal likes to enjoy it, taking his time and savouring the torture.

This one is Sylvie, he thinks, he does not really care for her name. Why name your cattle?

She looks so disappointed that he cannot help but laugh, what did she honestly think was going to happen when she cages a rabid vampire in a weak shell of morality and conscience?

What a silly woman, but then again, he has failed to meet any women that have any use other than being on their back.

He gestures towards the vanity table and the padded stool, makes sure she walks over to it, and though she appears to be calm and steady, Hal can practically see her knees buckling under her skirts as she approaches.

He pulls out the stool, ever the gentlemen.

"Sit." He tells her making sure she is sitting down facing the mirror, her reflection and his lack of reflection glaringly obvious.

He reached forward and with a gesture so mockingly loving, her face crumbles as he does it, he removes the necklace his other side had gifted her with. He makes sure his fingers touch her neck _just_ the way his other side used too. However, the blood from all the servants clings to his fingers damply, and red smears appear on her reflection's neck. The pearl necklace becomes stained in his hand, and he pulls it taut until the fragile chain holding the pearls on it shatters, the shiny beads scattering across the floor, making an awful racket and Sylvie jumps, her face screwed up as though in physical pain. The beads continue to noisily roll, and the sound seems all the louder as they know the house is empty but for them and the many corpses that litter the expansive halls.

"Take the rest of your jewellery off." He whispered into the shell of her ear, almost caressing her with his lips as he leaned in close, pressing a deft kiss to her exposed jugular.

She swallowed loudly and Hal grinned at the fear he could hear in her gulp, the racing of her pulse and the way her hands trembled as they reached for her earrings.

There was something he enjoyed about this, making women sit and look in the mirror, make them take off their jewellery and pull back their hair.

To know death is standing behind them, breathing on their neck, but unable to see his reflection, their heartbeats twice as fast as they had seen the black eyes and fangs….because they knew it was behind them, but they couldn't see it.

…and before they died or passed out from the pain, they received that exquisite view of their own throat being torn, and could see how beautiful it was when their own blood dribbled down their collarbone, and of course none of the view was obscured by his own image.

When Sylvie placed all her jewellery down, he gently brushed her hair aside, his fingers brushing her vertebrae, "Look at yourself, Darling, are you not stunning?" He spoke softly, letting his metallic breath sweep over her, watching her cringe at the smell. He leaned down, pressing his face into her exposed shoulder blade and smiled, let her feel his blood sodden lips crease in his amusement.

When he looked up, she was still looking in the mirror, tears welling in her eyes but not falling, and her lips trembled but remained in a firm line.

He could feel her trembling, her goose-bumps and erratic breathing but she remained sitting straight-backed and proud, and remained looking at her reflection with a fearless determination.

Maybe it was respect for that fearlessness, or the love his other side had had for her, Hal wasn't entirely sure… but his right hand came over her head and gently closed her eyes before he ripped her throat out.

**A/N- As I said, I just don't know where this came from, but it's been a long day at uni and I'm tired, a little angry so… this was just a 15 min job….**

**Please review?**


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